


The Activity Club and the Trip to Night Vale

by FountainPen



Category: Paranatural (Webcomic), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: As you do, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, The Moonlite All-Nite Diner, carlos is so cool, cecil freaks everyone out by being omnipitent, ed eats a burger, here is the child of said passion, i have a passion for paranatural and podcasts, i have no clue when this is set but cecil and carlos are married, john mulaney references are made, max is having none of this bullshit, rick takes the kids on a roadtrip, technically speaking this is canon if you've seen episode 110
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FountainPen/pseuds/FountainPen
Summary: On their way to a club retreat, the AC finds themselves in Night Vale, where there's no wheat or its byproducts, and a strange man is broadcasting their every move over the radio.





	The Activity Club and the Trip to Night Vale

“McDonald’s! McDonald’s! McDonald’s!” The kids shouted, and Mr. Spender nearly smashed his head into the steering wheel.

 

“I will get you your McDonald’s as soon as we come across one, but please, please stop screaming.” Mr. Spender pleaded from the front seat. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Richard Maxwell Puckett’s uncaring gaze. In his half a year of teaching Max, Spender had learned that the child was more chaotic than Ed, but quieter, making him more dangerous than anything.

 

The kids began chanting again. A road sign became visible in the distance.

 

“You know what, let’s listen to the radio, there’s bound to be a signal out here somewhere.” Rick flicked on the radio and was met with a buzzing voice that was becoming clearer. The desert road stretched on as the sun drooped lazily on the horizon. The club trip to the Activity Consortium’s vacation spot- Richard had pressed hard for Isaac to be allowed, the eighth-grader had been trying to work with the club and better his relationships, was a two day drive through the desert, but Spender had decided to take a new route.

 

The radio became startlingly crisp, and the car quieted as the broadcaster spoke.

 

“...and even if you run, know that beetles can run faster.” The car whizzed past a violet sign with the same message currently being spoken. “Welcome, to Night Vale.”

 

“Uh…” Isabel said eloquently from the back seat.

 

“D’you think Night Vale has McDonald’s?” Ed asked.

 

“Only one way to find out.” Mr. Spender said, adjusting his sunglasses. Buildings came into view, and the kids pressed their faces against the windows, peering out at the town as the broadcaster continued to speak.

 

“A group of strangers pulled into Night Vale today. Four children and a man. The man is not the children’s father, but their teacher.”

 

Max eyed the radio, gripping his bat. Mr. Spender’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.d

 

“I feel like there’s something off about this place,” Isaac said. The man on the radio prattled on, discussing the community calendar. Something about rain made of bees and the annual running of the librarians.

 

“Other than the lack of the glorious golden arches?” Max asked. Max wondered where all the spirits were, he couldn’t even spot any doctupi.

 

“Yeah, other than that.”

 

“Nah, it’s completely normal to be described on the radio in a town you’ve never been to as you enter said town,” Max replied.

 

“Can you two hush?” Isabel snapped. “I wanna know what else they’re saying.” The kids fell silent, all staring at the radio as it continued to discuss the goings on of the small town the Activity Club had stumbled upon.

 

“The allegations that mayor Dana Cardinal can fly willingly are false. All hovering and/or floatation is a side effect of Mayoral abilities, and should not be seen as recreational. On a similar note, Ms. Cardinal has asked citizens to stop throwing darts for the time being, due to an extreme increase in accidents unrelated to darts.”

 

“Mr. Spender, excuse my french but what in the actual hell?”

 

“Language, Isabel.” Mr. Spender said idly, still listening intently.

 

“An update on the strangers, who are now approaching the Moonlight All Nite Diner. One wears sunglasses, even though it is dark. He is the teacher.”

 

“Even the ominous radio guy is here to judge Mr. Spender.” Isabel nodded approvingly. Spender pulled over as they continued to listen with a slight sense of horror creeping around the car.

 

“The eldest child has orange, spiked hair, and smells of ozone.”

 

“Mr. Spender, I don’t like this,” Isaac muttered.

 

“The next child carries a metal bat. There is something off about the bat. He has a sharp tongue.” Max let out a burble of nervous laughter.

 

“Better not cut myself on that then.” Isabel groaned as Max replied to the disembodied voice.

 

“The third is skilled at combat, though it isn’t a kind I’m familiar with. Great leadership skills though, kid!”

 

“Thanks, man!”

 

“The fourth child wears glasses, but not sunglasses. He’s quite the artist, and can do a cartwheel.”

 

“Since when?” Max asked.

 

“Last week.”

“It’s likely that these strangers will be leaving Night Vale this evening, which is unfortunate, our little berg is quite the pleasant one, but perhaps it’s for the best, as the librarians don’t take well to the stench of newcomer’s blood.”

 

“...What now?” Max asked.

 

“I really hate that,” Isaac said.

 

“I still want some fries,” Ed said.

 

“Ed-”

 

“And now a word from our sponsors.” The voice on the radio said. “Look outside of your window. What do you see? I do not see anything, because there are no windows in my radio booth, but you should see things. Things that are there, and things that aren’t. These things are called nothing. Nothing will slowly but surely overwhelm us as we march along toward our inevitable and possibly gory deaths. Nothing is waiting for us once we make it to those deaths. Nothing stands still with open arms as we foolishly stumble toward it thinking that it is something. Nothing is not something. Nothing sees you. Nothing sees me. We are all visible to nothing, and someday we will be nothing. Maybe that day is far from now, but it is likely soon.

 

Brought to you by WalMart.”

 

“I want to leave now, thanks.” Isaac squeaked. Mr. Spender nodded grimly and went to pull the car out of its parking spot, but nothing happened, other than the sound of scuttling from within the hood.

 

“How about we grab some food and then see what the issue is?” Mr. Spender asked. None of the kids missed the nervousness creeping into his voice.

 

“You know what, fine, but after that, we’re so out of here.” Isabel agreed, hopping out of the car.

 

“I don’t feel like we should be wandering into this blind,” Max said hesitantly.

 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ed asked, joining Izzy on the sidewalk. Max and Isaac sighed and did the same.

 

“I have a few ideas on that, actually.” Max narrowed his eyes at the ground that began to pulse as if it had a heartbeat.

 

“Come along children, let’s head inside,” Rick said from the doorway of the Moonlight All Nite diner.

 

“Do you think they have salads here?” Isaac asked.

 

“Probably?” Max replied. “Why wouldn’t the- oh my _god??”_ The five spectrals were greeted by a waitress at the door, who other than the long, spindly branches jutting out from various spots on her face, neck, arms, and sides, appeared completely normal. The waitress moved slowly, as if pushing through water, and guided them to a booth. The waitress handed each of them a slip of paper from her notepad and left.

 

On the papers they were handed, their orders were written out for them, exactly as they would order them. A salad with a sprite for Isaac, a burger and fries for Ed, a grilled cheese for Isabel, Chicken tenders for Max, and Chicken nuggets for Mr. Spender. On Mr. Spender’s order sheet, there were detailed instructions on how to disembowel a chicken, and how to pay for their meal.

 

“Mr. Spender?” Isabel asked. “Are the waitresses… all mediums?” Every waitress had the addition of branches to their silhouettes, and each moved like they were in slow motion, as if they were much bigger than they actually were.

 

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this.” Mr. Spender admitted. “I haven’t seen a single spirit, and with that radio broadcast… I feel it’s best we leave as soon as we’re able to.”

 

“Yeah, no duh,” Max said.

 

“I think our food is here.” Isaac nodded at the cart wheeling itself toward them. A waitress followed slowly behind, vacant eyes never once looking at the five people at the table. The waitress sat the food down as The Activity Club and their advisor stared down incredulously at it.

 

“That’s. That’s just a piece of cheese.” Isabel whispered at her plate, which did on fact only held a slice of melted cheese.

 

“My bun to burger ratio is 0 to one.” Ed nodded.

 

“There’s no breading on the chicken either?” Max said as he poked his tender with a fry. Mr. Spender looked hesitant to call the waitress back to the table, so he looked down at his breadless chicken nuggets, sighed, and said,

 

“Let’s… just eat. The sooner we can head out the better.”

 

The five picked at their food in relative silence, listening to the radio that was being broadcast over the speakers in the diner describe exactly what they were doing. Max asked how the man could hear or even see them, let alone know anything about them. A man with a perfect jaw and teeth like a military cemetery at the next booth answered with a smile.

 

“I’m not quite sure about how Cecil manages to know the things he does, but I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” The man said. His table was covered in papers all written in neat, swirly handwriting. “I’m Carlos.”

 

“I’m Richard, and these are my students” Mr. Spender replied warily. Carlos seemed normal enough, but the day had proved nothing in the small city was what it appeared.

 

“What brought you to Night Vale?” Carlos asked.

 

“We’re just passing through. We’re on a road trip.” Richard said.

 

“So you didn’t mean to come here? Usually, that’s the only way to find this place.”

 

“Seriously, what the heck is happening? What do you mean the only way to find this place? Why is there a dude broadcasting everything we’ve done for the past twenty minutes over the flipping radio?” Max finally asked as a glowing cloud began raining small lizards over the streets. Max needed a Tylenol and his Shred Eagle tapes.“What exactly is going on around here?!” Carlos offered a sympathetic smile before answering.

 

“I came here a few years ago to find that out myself, but never ended up doing it. I’ve learned to live with what goes on around here as long as the crisis isn’t too big.”

 

“So you’re stuck here!?” Isaac exclaimed. The very idea of being stuck there ha the ginger shaking.

 

“Oh no, not at all! I could have left at any time, but I found a home here.” Carlos said reassuringly. “I chose to stay.”

 

“So how do you know the guy on the radio?” Isabel asked eagerly.

 

“Cecil is my husband. He runs a show over at the radio station.” Carlos said, not at all bothered by all the questions.

 

“Carlos, do you happen to know where one would find a mechanic?” Mr. Spender interjected. “We’re having some car troubles.”

 

“Those are unusually common here.” Carlos nodded. “A couple blocks thataway there’s a car lot, you should be able to get all the help you need there.”

 

“Thank you very much.” Mr. Spender said, relief slipping into his voice.

 

“Not at all.”

 

“Okay, one more thing,” Ed said, still looking at his burger. “Where’s all the bread?” Every head in the restaurant whipped around to face them, all glaring silently. Someone shouted the word ‘interloper’. Carlos grimaced.

 

“Wheat and wheat by-products are… illegal, in Night Vale.” Carlos said. Before any comment or query could be made, a box sitting in the middle of Carlos’s notes began beeping, and he jumped up. “I’d better go, the house that doesn’t exist just popped back up.”

* * *

 

The trip to Night Vale’s mechanic was short, only a block or two of walking. The small city reminded Max a bit of Mayview. Small, but absolutely horrifying upon arrival. Max felt that the terror never waned away in Night Vale as it did in Mayview, though.

 

At the car lot, the man working there said it was probably just a few scorpions that had nested in the engine. Apparently, that was something Scorpions did.

 

But while Mr. Spender spoke to the man about advanced extermination techniques, the kids’ attention was drawn away by flashes of light coming from just past the car lot. The children tried not to scream as a _thing_ that was too tall to be human with eyes dappling its body like spots on a jaguar appeared. Along with the eyes, there were six pairs of wings flapping gracefully as a ring of shifting fire spun around its apparent head.

 

“I’m going to need so much therapy after this.” Isaac breathed as the creature stooped next to a little old woman and outstretched its hand. The woman places a handful of salt shakers in the palm of the thing’s hand and it disappeared the way it had come, in a flash of borderline heavenly light.

 

“Bring back _all_ my salt shakers, Erika!” The old woman shouted into thin air and hobbled inside her home.

 

Mr. Spender was unable to correctly evacuate all the scorpions and traded a lock of his hair for the service. The kids sat in the car, and listened to the man on the radio, whom they’d recently learned was named Cecil.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is always a pleasure to have guests on the show, but please keep in mind, you do need to contact station management- or an intern, as management is incapable of communication with humans under the age of seventy for the time being. That being said, hooded figures are unaffected by our laws, and may enter anywhere at any given time.” The hood of the car slammed closed, and the Activity Club realized that the car- and by extension radio, had been off the entire time.

 

Mr. Spender climbed into the car after thanking the man again and offered a tired smile to his exhausted students.

 

“Ready to head out?” The question was met with vigorous nods and the adjustment of seatbelts.

 

“I literally cannot handle another second watching the sky change from green to silver” Isabel groaned.

 

“I’m a little more concerned about the librarian that ‘got out’” Max said. “Whatever that means.”

 

“Or, the hooded figures.” Ed agreed.

 

“Or the Erika,” Isaac added.

 

“I’m definitely going to let someone know about this town.” Mr. Spender said. “I’m sure someone will get to the bottom of it.”  


“I’m never complaining about how weird Mayview is again,” Max swore, stuffing his hat into his bag and putting his hood on. The broadcaster continued to speak as the signal got fuzzier the closer the car got to the city limits.

 

“Our strangers are leaving town tonight listeners, and the librarian was caught and safely secured back in its cage,” Cecil said, as the sky lost the last traces of twilight, his sonorous voice luring the tired kids closer and closer to sleep, despite the strangeness of what was being said.

 

“Up next: The sound crickets make when they die." Mr. Spender desperately hoped the radio would cut out before the next program began.

 

"Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.”


End file.
